


religion's in your lips (even if it's a false god)

by iPhone



Series: now i see daylight [8]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, F/F, Mental Health Issues, Pitch Perfect Fandom Drive, Post-Break Up, Smut, sorry - Freeform, ya this is a little darker than the other installations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24722605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Beca still wants Chloe in whatever way she can get her, even at her own detriment.
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: now i see daylight [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625614
Comments: 32
Kudos: 145
Collections: Pitch Perfect Fandom Drive





	religion's in your lips (even if it's a false god)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asimplefavor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimplefavor/gifts).



> This is for [Chloe](https://asimplefavors.tumblr.com/) as a thank you for participating in the Pitch Perfect Fandom Drive in support of Black Lives Matter. Thank you so much!
> 
> For everybody else, this is a bit of a darker installation in our daylight au. I hope you still enjoy. ❤️ The entire vibe for this installation was inspired by Taylor Swift's "False God" (which is also the song behind the title of the fic), so please take a listen.

**Age:** 19  
**Location:** New York City, NY  
**Month:** December

* * *

Not that Beca’s counting, but this is the fourth month since her break-up with Chloe and the first time since meeting Chloe at five years old that she’s been uncertain about going into the new year without her best friend by her side.

It’s _weird_. It’s _uncertain_.

But most of all, it feels like she’s never really going to get over that break-up—her first break-up ever—anytime soon.

It stings, months later, even though Beca knows that Chloe had her reasons for wanting to go their separate ways; even though Beca knows now that she and Chloe hadn’t been working for a while; even though there had been problems on both ends.

It isn’t worth analyzing, not now to Beca at least. The short story is simple enough, rife with enough heartache: it had been too much too fast and they hadn’t been ready to handle it enough.

Still, years of friendship with Chloe has made Beca somewhat of an optimist (a bad one regardless), so she kind of keeps hoping for some kind of refrain to their story, not a coda. The distance between them now feels oppressive—jarring in ways that Beca could have never imagined—even if Beca knows with every fiber of her being that Chloe is closer to her than ever before (physically at least) since they’re both likely in the same city.

Chloe had adapted easily to her transfer to Columbia from Barden, as Beca had expected. They had barely exchanged texts, just simple greetings and congratulatory messages from time to time—as often as they could within the span of the four months they had officially been broken up. Within that time, however, Beca felt more and more desperate to stay connected to Chloe despite everything. It had taken Beca _everything_ to not mention offhandedly that she knew Chloe had started lowkey seeing somebody (or at least sleeping with somebody—though Beca isn’t sure which is the more comforting thought) around the end of October or early November.

...not that Beca had been keeping track.

Or, rather, more accurately put, she doesn’t _want_ to keep track. It just seems like she’s not very good at getting her way when it comes to Chloe Beale.

* * *

It wasn’t like Beca necessarily had _other_ plans for the New Year. A lackluster collection of messages sit on her phone from her father, her mother, and even her step-siblings, but none of them really invigorated her into wanting to spend time with any of them (and if she’s being painfully honest with herself, she’s almost certain that they’re not wholly interested in spending that much time with her either). Even her increasingly growing circle of friends in Los Angeles didn’t really feel like the right group of people to spend the new year with.

But, even with that on Beca’s mind, all of this had been Theo’s idea. Beca had begrudgingly agreed because she had kind of grown tired of being cooped up in Los Angeles where she would have been happy to spend some quality time in the studio. With the success of her EP and her first full-length album being well on its way, Theo had thought it a good idea to make their rounds to “friends and family” of the Republic Records roster.

It was _surreal_ to say the least, brushing shoulders with people that Beca had once admired from the confines of her bedroom all the way back in Massachusetts, simply hoping that she would have her shot. From her bedroom to the record store where she had spent most days flipping through old albums, daydreaming about music and Chloe and simply wishing for time to fly by so she could finally get her life started.

What she would do to go back to that quiet store, to feel Chloe’s arms draped over her shoulders and her playful giggle in her ear in her attempts to distract Beca from work she had no intention of doing anyway.

Now, at a private party hosted by FLETCHER, Beca has to shake herself more than once simply to get out of the headspace she had been in, good thoughts and bad thoughts alike.

This is, after all, her once in a lifetime opportunity.

* * *

Scratch that. All of that.

She’s staring right at Chloe Beale at a rented-out abandoned warehouse-apartment. Beca would recognize Chloe _anywhere_. She can’t quite believe her eyes.

Once in a lifetime opportunities indeed.

* * *

Chloe looks _good_.

That’s the first thing Beca notices and she kind of hates herself for it, but it can’t be helped. Her hair is longer, maybe a little curlier, and it falls in loose, beautiful waves over her shoulders. Beca tries to assess whether Chloe looks the same otherwise, but she can’t really tell, not with the dim lighting around them. Beca quickly shakes her head at her companion as she rises from her seat in the corner and darts up to quickly greet Chloe before Chloe has a chance to slip away.

With her heart in her throat, the pressure definitely encroaching on her ability to speak, she steps beside Chloe. She tracks her eyes up the side of Chloe’s face for a moment while Chloe has yet to notice her as Beca moves to lean against the same wall Chloe is leaning again.

It takes a moment but Chloe visibly does a double-take when she twists slightly to observe her new wall partner. Beca’s neck heats and she is thankful immediately for the low light.

“Beca?” Chloe exclaims. “Beca! I—holy crap—” Beca dares to make eye contact, feeling her lips twitch into what feels like a smile even though her heart and brain war against each other to process the emotions swirling in her stomach.

Beca opens her mouth to say something—anything, really, at this point—but words fail her momentarily. She swallows, angling her body towards Chloe as well because to do so feels natural, like they gravitate towards each other on instinct. Something beyond either of their control.

“Come with me?” Beca asks. It is then that it really sinks in for her that she is finally standing in front of Chloe who looks equally surprised to see her. Beca really shouldn’t have been surprised at all, not initially at least, because Chloe always had a way of finding her way into the right crowds, but even more than that, she always had a special knack for finding her way into Beca’s life.

“Okay,” Chloe says. At least, Beca thinks she responds. She wants nothing more than to reach back to grab Chloe’s hand or at least look over her shoulder to see if Chloe is following, but she fears that to look back would mean sending Chloe away again.

When Beca finally dares to look back, she is relieved to see that Chloe followed—that perhaps Chloe would always follow Beca in the same way Beca would for her.

“Hi,” Chloe says, when silence passes between them once more in their more secluded corner; their little corner away from prying eyes and keen ears. “You—” she cuts herself off when she notices Beca is in the middle of speaking as well, gesturing at Beca politely.

“Uh, hi,” Beca greets a bit lamely, for some reason now terrified that Chloe has given her the floor to speak. “You’re...here,” she says stiltedly. “In New York. I mean. Because you go to school here now. But you’re _here_ at this…” She looks around before shrugging a shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

Chloe smiles, tucking her hair behind her ears in a gesture that seems rather shy to Beca, but endearing nonetheless. “New Year’s treat to myself,” she says in explanation.

“Ah.” Beca tries not to, she really does, but her eyes track down Chloe’s body immediately, taking in Chloe’s outfit. Simple black jeans and a tank top should have no business looking that good on anybody, but Beca feels her mouth go dry at every last forbidden memory that assaults her system. Briefly, she finds herself jealous, like she ought to scan the dwindling crowd and see whether Chloe came with any friends.

Or any one friend in particular.

She drags her eyes back to Chloe quickly, wrestling with her emotions so she can school her expression appropriately. “Did you come alone?” Beca asks, attempting to inject the right amount of curiosity-sans-jealousy into her tone. Nonchalant. She can do that.

Chloe blushes again and something akin to guilt rises up on her cheeks. It’s a bit of a stretch as Chloe takes her time to respond before finally settling on “Did you? Come alone, I mean.” Her gaze dips past Beca’s shoulder to where Beca had been sitting in her corner, half-heartedly paying attention to the conversation she had been engaging in with her plus-one.

A gaze that meant that perhaps Chloe had been more observant than Beca previously assumed. The thought sends heat through Beca’s body, settling somewhere in her chest and manifesting in a blush across her cheeks.

 _Chloe_ is here now. And Chloe is evading her question with a question of her own, which makes all kinds of turmoil swirl through Beca’s stomach.

“I didn’t,” Beca manages to mumble, feeling the oddest sensation of guilt as well. She hadn’t been saving herself for Chloe or anything, which is what she tells herself as she tries to talk herself down. It’s harder to remind herself that Chloe hadn’t necessarily saved herself for _her_ either. “Just...mostly a label thing. I’m here for, um, work.”

It’s all really just too fucking fresh and too fucking devastating, knowing that ‘work’ had been what drove them apart in the first place because they had both naively thought that things wouldn’t have to change between them—that high school would follow them both with ease and transition without any real effort.

Chloe’s tongue comes out to swipe at her lower lip. “I didn’t...either. Not really. But they’re…” Chloe casts a glance over her shoulder. She looks back at Beca, bashful. “It seemed like a good way to kick off the new year, you know?”

“How’s school?” Beca asks. “I know you were…” she swallows thinking of how absent she had been when Chloe had been working on her transfer application. “You were really excited.” It comes out softer than intended and Beca feels the sudden urge to reach out to hold Chloe’s hand.

Chloe smiles at her words. “I love it,” she replies, sounding as passionate as Beca remembers her.

 _I love you,_ Beca thinks. "That's good to hear," she says aloud.

* * *

The end up talking for at least an hour. Socially, it’s probably not either of their best attempts at working the room, but they both appear to revel in the ease with which they are able to sink back into their usual conversational habits.

But, more poignantly, their usual chemistry. It ebbs and flows in waves around them, like a heady song reminiscent of all the memories that Beca had attempted (with no real effort in all honesty) to suppress.

Beca is so painfully reminded of how long it’s been since she last had sex (with Chloe).

“Do you have plans after this?” Beca asks during a lull in their conversation. She warms at the way Chloe’s eyes flash towards her.

“No,” Chloe admits. “But my friends were thinking of dipping anyway.”

“Oh,” Beca mumbles. “Okay.” She tries not to fixate on the fact that Chloe doesn’t seem to plan on leaving with them. Her eyes track across Chloe’s shoulders and collarbone again.

Beca’s obvious ogling doesn’t go unnoticed. Chloe doesn’t look upset by the attention. Instead, she looks pleased.

Maybe too pleased.

It makes Beca want to kiss the smirk right off her lips.

She struggles to think of something to say—anything but the thoughts racing through her mind. She blames the adrenaline from the high of the live performance and the reception to her music. She blames the energy of the crowd around them. She blames Chloe’s proximity to her. She blames the fact that she can see the light sheen of sweat on Chloe’s bared skin.

But Chloe’s smug expression fades eventually and she shrugs. “Do you want to...talk more?” Chloe asks sincerely. “Or are you busy?”

Beca glances around, taking stock of the people in closest proximity to them. She casts a glance around, keeping an eye out for a handler or her manager, but upon seeing that the coast is fairly clear, she nods and grabs Chloe’s wrist. “Come with me. We can go someplace quieter.”

* * *

It feels like a new verse—or maybe an entirely new song. Not quite deja vu, but Beca isn’t sure what she would prefer.

* * *

The ride back to Beca’s hotel is the quite possibly the tensest car ride Beca has ever been on. She glances at Chloe non-stop, trying to remember the last time they sat side by side in a car. It had been when Chloe had picked her up at the airport that...that last time.

Beca clenches her hands in her lap.

The hurt still flares up from time to time, but over the past few weeks, it had lessened to nothing but a dull throbbing ache. Nothing to write home about. Nothing to fret over. She had simply been too busy with working on her EP, releasing her single, and then doing promotional work to even think about Chloe for more than a few minutes a day. It was only within those few minutes that she found herself lost in the sad memory of her ex-girlfriend.

But now— _now_ , Chloe is next to her and they finally have a chance to talk. Beca wrings her hands nervously as they round the last street corner before her hotel.

Talking is fine. Beca can talk. Chloe was— _is—_ her best friend. She has nothing to be afraid of. She knows this.

“This is me,” Beca announces unnecessarily as the driver pulls to a stop. “A hotel.”

Chloe giggles at Beca’s unnecessary but familiar awkwardness. “I figured.”

Beca’s throat goes dry. “Well, I mean. Just in case...you didn’t know.” She feels nervous, like she’s about to enter her first day of high school again.

Chloe’s gaze locks onto hers and Beca forgets whatever inane thing she was about to say.

So, talking is a _little_ hard now.

Sue her.

Sue them both.

* * *

But some things are easy enough to fall back into. Too easy.

Like the way Chloe’s hand reaches for hers in the elevator. How gently and intimately their fingers tangle together.

Like the way Beca’s entire body heats up when she sees exactly how Chloe is looking at her.

Like the way Beca knew exactly what she wanted to happen when she suggested they go someplace quieter to talk.

* * *

“Nice room,” Chloe comments, trailing a finger along the edge of an ornate dresser by the bed. “They didn’t have any suites available?”

The teasing lilt to Chloe’s voice seems amplified—something dark and hungry in Chloe’s tone—but Beca only notices because every last sensory nerve is alert; every sound reverberates through her with the force of a thousand speakers.

She swallows, taking a step towards Chloe before hesitating when Chloe’s eyes cut up to her own.

The thing that comforts Beca most is the stark vulnerability she sees in Chloe’s eyes—the same that she’s sure must be reflected in her own eyes. She wants to say a million things—wants to ask a hundred jealous questions and more. Between leaving high school and now, a mere year and a bit, she feels like they have aged an entire lifetime. The chasm between them is so palpable, rife with tension and hurt mixed in confusingly with the same chemistry they always enjoyed.

“I don’t need a suite,” Beca finally responds. Though her words are bland, she can’t help the way her voice rasps out due to the tightness in her throat and in her chest. _Not for this_ , she wants to say. _I need you_.

“Guess not,” Chloe murmurs before she closes the distance between them, pulling Beca in for a searing kiss. It is not quite the kiss that Beca envisioned they’d share upon meeting up again, but she curls her fingers tightly into the front of Chloe’s shirt and holds on tight, unwilling to let go, even for what she’s sure is just a night of nothing but uninhibited passion.

* * *

“Fuck, _Beca_ ,” Chloe moans, tangling her fingers in Beca’s hair to the point of pain. “Right there, _yeah_ , fuck, right there—”

Beca continues to eagerly lick and suck at Chloe’s wet folds, wanting nothing more to bring Chloe to the brink again and again until neither of them can move anymore. She grips Chloe’s thighs, forcing her legs apart further, and continues, uncaring as Chloe’s moans and cries only increase in volume. She doesn’t care if she gets a noise complaint. She’d go as far as to say that a noise complaint is the _goal_ at the moment. She wants to get as many noise complaints as she can. It doesn’t matter as long as she makes Chloe fucking _come_.

She pushes her tongue past Chloe’s folds, as deep as it can possibly go. Her jaw aches badly but still, she pushes forward. She resists the urge to stop because stopping would mean she would no longer hear the wonderful sounds Chloe makes with each pass of her tongue; with each clumsy stroke of her fingers just where she knows Chloe needs her most. Beca groans at the taste of Chloe all over her mouth and the sounds of Chloe coming apart echoing all over the room.

“I’m going to come,” Chloe moans out. “I’m going to come, _fuck_ —” she comes with a sharp cry, Beca’s name on her lips. Her hips rock up and down as if attempting to dislodge Beca from her, but her hand clamps down hard against the back of Beca’s head to keep her in place. It is an almost unfamiliar, possessive grip. Beca barely remembers when they had been so consumed by passion and lust that emotions barely had the chance to make themselves known. Still, the gesture makes Beca grind down against the bed in reaction, clenching her fingertips against Chloe’s sweat-slicked skin. She steadies herself by grabbing Chloe’s hips in a vice grip, moaning as the taste of Chloe further floods her mouth, wetting her chin slightly. Her own cunt clenches around nothing as she pants, muffling her own cry against Chloe’s thigh, finally receiving the sweetest, but smallest of releases. She kisses Chloe’s damp skin, using her teeth to bluntly nip along the soft warmth of Chloe’s inner thigh in an attempt to calm herself down.

Without waiting for Chloe to say anything else, Beca crawls up her body, using her fingers to stimulate her own clit as she goes. She groans, eyes nearly crossing at the sensation. She’s too sensitive, too far gone, so she rocks her hips greedily down against Chloe’s thigh before letting her fingers slip inside herself. Months since she has felt another person’s touch against her—months since Chloe. Even touching herself didn’t quite feel the same without the knowledge that she had Chloe. “I’m so close,” she pants out. “Please, I want to—”

Chloe nods, still slightly dazed from her orgasm, but she pulls Beca in for a searing kiss, tasting just the faintest remnants of herself along the inside of Beca’s mouth. She moans, arching upwards and spreading her legs to accommodate Beca between them. Her hands move to grab at Beca’s ass, helping her rock slowly against the steady, firm thigh Chloe has between her legs, but it’s not what Beca wants most. Her rocking is hindered by her own hand between her legs, her fingers not quite doing what she wants most. She licks her lips, whimpering at the taste of Chloe still lingering just slightly on her lower lip.

“Let me,” Chloe rasps. She wraps a hand around Beca’s wrist. “Come on,” she urges.

Beca bites her lower lip as she removes her fingers, moaning at the loss. She clumsily tries to slot herself between Chloe’s legs, thrusting her hips down as best as she can.

Chloe’s hands drift to her hips in order to better steady her. “Beca, I can—”

“No. Please,” Beca grits out, cutting Chloe off unexpectedly. “I want to feel you like this.” Her hips stutter in their rhythm, but she quickly grabs one of Chloe’s legs and lifts slightly, shifting her hips in just the right way so that she can feel Chloe’s wet folds and her stiff clit brush against her own nether regions. The sensation, even though it is slight with their haphazard positioning, makes her eyes cross and her stomach coil in pleasure knowing that she gets to experience this with Chloe once more. She gasps out, unable to stop the brief, high-pitched sounds from escaping her. She feels so _close_ to Chloe—so connected to her once more. “ _Please_ ,” she begs. “Let me, _God_ —” she cries out, connecting fully with Chloe’s center.

She aches, badly. Partly from the discomfort of their positions, but also with how much she wants Chloe like this. Like the past few months—hell, the past _year_ —of emotions have come rushing out to spar for dominance in the tangle of Beca’s bedsheets, no longer as crisp and clean as they had been just that morning.

It is as if Chloe feels that surge of emotion from Beca, like she always had before. Chloe’s hands tighten on her hips as her breathing grows erratic once more. She slowly guides Beca’s movements, keeping a steady, gentle rocking motion until she evidently grows impatient and reaches down to swipe her thumb against Beca’s clit. Beca gasps, hips jolting out of place, which is enough for Chloe to roll them over so she can pin Beca beneath her body and slowly press two fingers inside her. “This is so much better,” Chloe purrs, energy renewed.

Beca could disagree on some levels but she can’t exactly disagree _fully_ , not when Chloe’s fingers feel so fucking good inside her, finally.

Months of not having that sensation of fullness, not just physically despite how fucking good it feels, but also that sensation of emotional connection she had been missing so much.

Months of feeling like she couldn’t breathe, knowing that her jealousy had been welling up inside her, threatening to spill over at any second.

Months of not having Chloe, who always knew exactly how to make her feel _amazing_.

“I wanted to come on you,” Beca pants out, uncaring that her brain is no longer connected to her mouth. “God, fuck, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

Chloe groans. “Later,” she mumbles, leaning down to suck harshly at Beca’s nipple. “I want you like this,” she declares, letting Beca know that the time for negotiation and demands is over. As Chloe’s free hand comes up to cup her breast possessively, Beca briefly wonders how she could possibly want anybody else; she wonders whether Chloe still wants her as much as she still wants Chloe; she wonders if Chloe thinks of her the same way Beca thinks of Chloe, alone in her bed.

Nothing, however, compares to this—the thick, hot air around them, sheets rumpled all around them like a nest for them to lie in until the morning comes. Beca curls her fingers into Chloe’s hair, arching her back with a weak whimper as Chloe’s fingers flex and push inside her with consistency and force.

The sharp sting of Chloe’s teeth against her sensitive skin makes Beca coil and tense once more, this time more distinct than before. She barely recognizes her own voice when she groans, deep and low, as she clenches tight around Chloe’s fingers. “Make me come, _please_ ”

“I will,” Chloe promises, increasing the intensity of her thrusts. The bed creaks.

Like a refrain that Beca has longed to hear over and over, she loses herself in the chorus of her own staccato whimpers and grunts, offset only by the echo of Chloe’s breathless sounds. She lets the sensation of being completely possessed by Chloe wrap her up in the pseudo-warmth of being loved once more—the thin blanket of passion and lust that covers them both. She clutches at it—a tightening of her fingers in Chloe’s hair once more and a sharp scratch up Chloe’s back—with some desperation, wanting to both lose herself completely and yet, stay coherent so she can recall every last moment.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Beca pants out, losing track of the rhythm for the briefest of moments as she scrabbles to hold on to whatever part of Chloe she can reach. Chloe clutches her back in return, pressing closer to her, nearly trapping her arm and hand between their bodies entirely.

“I won’t,” Chloe promises again in a tone that sends a fresh wave of arousal through Beca.

Beca allows herself to shut her eyes.

* * *

Beca refuses to let up and to her delight, Chloe refuses to as well. She matches Beca one-for-one for _everything_ and before either of them realizes, it is verging close to the early morning.

Sweaty and sticky, Beca moves to grab water from the hotel room’s mini-fridge and tosses a second bottle to Chloe. Chloe takes a long drink before clumsily placing the bottle on the dresser and twisting to face Beca. Chloe’s eyes are dark and wanting, with the mildest hint of exhaustion. Beca’s sure she looks the same—two of them, complete messes. But this is their own little world. At least for the next little while that Beca has Chloe here with her.

Chloe is endlessly patient. She waits while Beca drinks her water. Beca watches her, eyes tracing over the endless, unmarked skin save for a few red scratch marks and blooming hickeys in hidden spots. She wants to do _more_. She’s not sure where the obsession comes from, but it springs from deep within her chest, like a well that refuses to empty no matter how much Beca draws from it.

A well full of every last repressed thought about Chloe, about their relationship, and about their lives together. Beca knows that this is so unhealthy—that they should talk. But the sex makes everything feel that much more bearable. She can do this with Chloe. They’re both consenting adults. They both have the freedom to decide what they want. Chloe wants this too.

As long as Chloe wants this, she wants Beca. She wants Beca, without a doubt. It clears the insecurities momentarily.

And that’s good enough for Beca.

Beca slowly puts the mostly empty water bottle down on the closest surface. She wants desperately to shower, but she cannot resist crawling back into bed and climbing back on top of Chloe eagerly. No words are needed as their limbs intertwine and their bodies slot together naturally, like they’ve done this a thousand times. Maybe they have, Beca can’t recall. Not when Chloe pulls her in for a messy, passionate kiss, again lacking much of the care and affection their previous kisses used to have.

Beca doesn’t care. Not now, not ever, she thinks. She can do this. All she knows is that her body is somewhat satisfied, but not fully.

She needs to know that Chloe still wants her—that Chloe still desires her in the way that she always did. She is not disappointed when Chloe’s hands immediately fly to her ass, groping at the flesh she finds before slipping to her still-wet pussy. Beca knows how incredibly sore she is going to be in a few hours—perhaps she feels a hint of it already—but she cannot help but rock back onto Chloe’s fingers as she begins to fuck her again.

“Yes,” Chloe whispers. “Fuck yourself, Bec.”

Beca obeys, nodding frantically as she begins a punishing pace. She can only lift her hips so high as to keep Chloe’s fingers steady inside her, but it is Chloe who picks up the pace, who uses her strength to flip them over so she can use her hips as more leverage to drive her fingers deeper and faster.

Chloe was always better at fucking her anyway.

 _Again, again_ , Beca’s body cries out.

Her mind and heart remain shockingly quiet on the subject, but Beca wonders how anybody or anything could be displeased by this result. She comes incredibly quick, clenching tight around Chloe’s fingers. For a long moment, Chloe keeps her fingers still, both of them still breathing hard. Beca almost clamps her legs shut around Chloe’s hands, just to keep her there.

 _Don’t go_ , she almost says aloud when Chloe finally moves her hand away.

She doesn’t want it to end.

* * *

When Beca wakes up in the morning (read: only a few short hours later), her duvet is still warm and Chloe’s pillow is still slightly rumpled. The air smells of Chloe and sex. The bed is half empty, save for a small folded note just above where Chloe’s body had been laying mere hours, minutes, seconds before.

Beca does not have to look elsewhere to see that all of Chloe’s things are probably gone. She reaches for the note even though she knows that the foreboding in her heart is her body telling her that she shouldn’t.

_thanks for making the start of this year amazing  
_ _it was wonderful seeing you_  
_xx  
_ _chloe_

She hates how much it feels like another ending.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please read more about the fandom drive initiative **[here](http://ppfandomdrive.tumblr.com/)**! Say hi to me on Tumblr [here](http://darby-carter.tumblr.com/).


End file.
